Ann_Praying Hands

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Praying Hands

The Praying Hands

Back in the 15th century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, there lived a family with
18 children. Eighteen! In order to keep food on the table for this lot, the father,
a goldsmith by profession, worked almost 18 hours a day at his trade and any other paying
chore he could find in the neighbourhood. Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of
the elder Durer's children had an ambition. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art,
but they knew fully well that their father would never be financially capable of sending
either of them to Nuremberg to study at the academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked
out a pact. They would toss coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines, and with
his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who
won the toss completed his 4-year study, he would support the other brother at the academy
either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, by labouring in the mines. They tossed a
coin on Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss
and thus went off to Nuremberg.

Albert, his brother, went down into dangerous mines and, for the next 4 years, provided
finances for Albrecht. Albrecht was an immediate sensation. His etchings, woodcuts, and
oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated,
he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner in
their humble yard to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable
meal, garnished with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honoured position at the
head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had
enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "and now, to Albert, blessed
brother of mine…it is your turn. Now, you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream,
and I will take care of your needs."

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table…but there Albert sat,
tears streaming down his pale face, gently shaking his lowered head while he sobbed and
repeated, over and over, "No.." Slowly Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He
glanced down the long table at the faces he loved…and he lifted his hands for everyone to
see…and softly he said, "No, Albrecht, I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late…Look…Look
what 4 years in the mines have done to my hands…The bones in every finger have been
smashed at least once, and now I suffer from arthritis so badly that I cannot even hold
a glass to return your toast…much less draw delicate line on parchment with a pen or
a brush. My dear brother, for me it is too late."

More than 450 years later, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and
silver-point sketches, watercolours, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang
in every great museum in the world. But the odds are great that you - like most people,
are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than just familiar, you may
even have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.

To pay homage to Albert for all his sacrifices, Albrecht Durer drew his brother Albert
laboured hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward… He called his
powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the world opened their hearts to his great
masterpiece and renamed this tribute of love, "The Praying Hands." If you happen
to glance upon a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it remind us
of all brotherly love, of our parents and family, and the sacrifices and support
that people have extended for us…All the things that we have achieved and would
still achieve are not entirely our own sole doing.

So often we forget the people who love us most
are the ones whom we carelessly forget and hurt.